


Knights of the Wizarding World

by CaptivatingLadySpinel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus Harry Potter, Durmstrang Student Harry Potter, Expert Marksman, Female Draco Malfoy, Grey!Harry Potter, Magical Teutonic Order, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Malfoy Manor, Militaristic Magical Society, Multi, Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Swedish Wizarding Community, Triwizard Tournament, Twins!Draco Malfoy, Wizarding World (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23367511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptivatingLadySpinel/pseuds/CaptivatingLadySpinel
Summary: The Wizarding World has their Auror Force that all their Communities and inhabitants know about. However, there is a hidden organization that secretly deals with Wizarding Wars around the world known as the Magical Teutonic Order.The night of October 31st of 1981, Lord Voldemort attacked the Longbottoms while Bellatrix and the Lestrange brothers attacked the Potters. Both assaults go wrong, and from the two families only Neville Longbottom is said to survive becoming The-Boy-Who-Lived.In Sweden, a Magical boy appears in a quaint neighborhood where the Lord of the only Most Ancient and Noble House of Dahl just lost his Wife and son. Stars move, and fates entwine. 'Corona Borealis is shining in the sky, looking for Arianrhod'.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 107





	1. The attack

**Author's Note:**

> This was a challenge I received from a good friend of mine but wasn't able to continue. There are only three chapters of this, and hopefully I can come back to it this year. 
> 
> Anyway, this is the last fic I will post to stave off boredom against the harsh circumstances we find ourselves in. I hope you are taking care of yourself, follow all the measures applied by your country. Don't become arrogant believing you are invincible. This are not times to become a Chuunibyo. If you don't know what that is, you can look it up. I can only contribute with this so you don't get too stressed out in your house. I have adjusted my schedule and I hope to update soon enough my other fics. Please hang in there! We can do it!
> 
> Leave your comments with what you think about this fic, if you like it, if you don't, what you expect, etc. You can ask for spoilers if you want, too! Anything, you want I will reply just so you know there is someone to talk to!

* * *

The fire rose high as if touching the starry sky. It was a comparison between red and black, light and darkness. It could be confused for a pyre dedicated to the gods, thanking for all the blessings they send to mortals. But to those who knew, those who were close to the place, they only saw destruction. The wood was crumbling due to the force of the scorching fire, swallowing the whole house. Nothing could be saved. No one could be saved. Because by the time someone arrived, it was too late.

The plan was simple: capture them just in case. So they had to get in, stun the family and take them to their Lord. Something went wrong in between. The Dark Mark started to hurt just when they were about to break into the house and then it faded to a dull, really pale grey. That was all for the only woman in the group, the most loyal, to know that something was wrong and for something to click in her mind.

She lost it.

She blew up the door while cackling like some vengeful spirit, the red lights of her Crucios flared constantly and when the ones accompanying her finally snapped out of their shock, she was already casting a _Fiendfyre_ that quickly consumed the house, barely letting them escape.

Next day, they were captured by the Aurors not without giving some hell of a fight.

In front of that house in Godric's Hollow, where the Potters lived, a man was crouching on the floor, bawling and yelling about the injustice of the lives lost, those that will never come back to him. The young man, with black, shoulder-length hair and aristocratic features befitting of a Black had just lost his best friend, his friend's wife who was like a sister and his godson. Sirius Black was crying the loss of James, Lily and Harry Potter's lives.

Lost to a traitor friend Sirius swore he would get in his hands on no matter what, no matter how long it took. He was going to get revenge for them.

But just that one traitor wasn't enough for him. Sirius knew that Peter wasn’t brave or skillful enough to do what was happening in front of him. No. He wanted the ones responsible for such an atrocious act. And he wouldn’t have known who did it, if it wasn’t because he got a glimpse of their figures just when they were Dissaparating.

Family or not, he wanted Bellatrix's blood. He wanted her blood to run like the rivers of Ancient Babylon. He wanted to hear the screams of that useless husband of hers, together with his brother. Make her suffer slowly until she begs for him to end her miserable life and even then, he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of such an easy end. No. As a Black, he would never forgive himself if he were that soft with her. He was even willing to embrace the Black Madness if that meant enacting a just revenge.

He wanted the whole Lestrange family to feel at least half the pain he feels.

It wasn't until a hand squeezed his shoulder that he looked up to see the same devastated face he was sporting on one Remus Lupin; who at least had some self-control to not fall apart like his friend and cast an _Aqua Eructo_ to extinguish the flames. Seeing the fire dying, the water flowing, and hearing the sobs beside him were enough to let his own tears fall.

It wasn’t fair, Remus thought. Wasn’t it enough to bear with the discrimination towards his condition? The glares from people who realized what he was. The malicious words spoken by people who didn’t care that he was able to hear them. The sneers, the subtle- and sometimes not so subtle- pushing; yet, the scorn didn’t compare to what was happening in front of him. The pain. The loneliness. The sudden realization that his pack dissolved in just one night; one a traitor, three dead, and the one remaining was as lost and broken as he was at the moment.

Time passed in a blur for them, just standing seeing what was left: charred, wet wood and smoke. Aurors here and there asking questions and checking the scene. The looks of pity, the fleeting words of sympathy; everywhere around them was hectic. From time to time, they would hear a faint laugh from the muggle streets near the invisible wizarding area they were in. Laugh from kids disguised as some monster; kids celebrating Halloween. There was nothing to celebrate for them.

For Halloween, All Hallows Eve, Samhain will never be the same.

Little they knew that in the shadows, there was another figure with a heart as broken as them.

His friend, his first and best friend, his first and only love gone like the smoke coming from the charred wood; unrecognizable, if the fire was something to take into account. For nothing would have survived that catastrophe.

He had had a bad feeling so he followed Bellatrix, the Lestrange brothers and Barty Crouch Jr. to where Peter Pettigrew told them the Potters were. He didn’t trust the coward to know where they were; after all, the mutt was a better option to be the Secret Keeper. It was obvious. Black and Potter were like two drops from the same pond. Arrogant, foolish, insufferable Gryffindors that were full of scorn for others that didn’t see the world just like them.

But he was wrong. Peter really was the Secret Keeper and that was the beginning of the end.

Severus Snape couldn’t do anything but watch the destruction. It was like a vivid nightmare playing before his eyes. He didn’t want to believe but reality was a bitch and together with the screams of Sirius Black, he knew it was real. He didn't want to show his emotions like the mutt but he just couldn't suppress them. He indulged and promised himself it was going to be the last time because tears were not going to bring her back.

And from that day on, he would regret the moment he delivered that prophecy to the Dark Lord. And from that day on, even as a dark wizard, he would never again support any cause he didn't believe in completely and much less from a madman. And from that day on, Severus Snape would never be the same again.

And the three just looked at the burnt house, the raising smoke and the Dark Mark casted by the _Morsmordre_ curse jeering at them from above in the sky.

And the kids kept celebrating.

And Sirius and Remus stood there waiting for the Aurors to confirm the deaths of the Potter family. The _Fiendfyre_ was simply too cruel and didn't leave much of them. The little that could be recognizable was from James and Lily, nothing left from little Harry.

  
  


...

  
  


Some cried, others were consumed by anger but on that same night, in Wiltshire, on a big space of land where an elegant manor house stood surrounded by the darkness of the night, there was someone who was excited.

The Manor at the end of a straight drive with lights glinting in the diamond-paned windows, was the depiction of power, history, money and status among the Pureblood community. Somewhere in the lush garden beyond the hedge, a fountain was spilling water forming different shapes. The bushes and grass were perfectly trimmed thanks to the House-elves of this manor.

A blond man hurried along the drive, almost tripping in his haggard appearance, even forgetting that Apparating to the large and sumptuously decorated entrance hall of the house would have been easier than walking all the way to the doors. But he had news that would change his future and the one of his family. Whether it was good or bad news, he would leave it to the joint decision between him and his Wife.

He pushed the big doors open and ignoring the elf that came to his aid, he walked to the only place in which he would find his Wife.

The drawing room was as elegant and sumptuous as the rest of the house with windows as high as the walls of the room itself, the marble floor always had a glint as if it was brand new, a small fire roared in the hearth giving the place a comfortable warmth, the ancient yet elegant black furniture looked as good as new. On one of the high backed armchairs rested a pale, blonde woman, dressed in dark purple robes. Her face was soft and her eyes were almost closing, a book on her lap was proof of what she had been doing before her Husband arrived.

"Cissa!" The blond man, all decorum and finesse of a Pureblood thrown out the window, yelled making her flinch in her seat.

"Lucius, what is it?" She immediately asked when she noticed the state in which her Husband returned. The book fell to the floor due to her abruptly standing up.

"He's gone." He ran to his wife and hugged her. Some may call him a coward, but to Lucius Malfoy no cause was more important than his family itself. He always feared to leave his beautiful Wife alone to raise the kids.

"What do you mean he's gone?" She asked when they separated. The black bags under her eyes, contrasting with the whiteness of her skin, reminded him that she had been having less and less sleep due to the constant calls of their Lord for meetings. It showed how much she cared for him, and how worried and stressed she had been lately. It was a relief that she never took that much interest in whatever Lucius was into and never believed in what he was fighting for, as she never received the Mark like him.

"Look," he raised his sleeve to show his pale forearm and where the Dark Mark was.

Narcissa's eyes widened for a fraction of second and then slowly raising her trembling hand, she gently touched his skin. The Dark Mark which was used to call her Husband and more often than not, to torture him, was not its usual inky black but a pale grey, almost fading. There was only a reason for this; the Dark Lord Voldemort was gone.

She immediately hugged Lucius for receiving such good news. It wasn't that she didn't believe in the cause anymore but between the care of her babies and the constant worry every time Lucius was called, added to the masks she had to put up in front of all the Death Eaters and other Purebloods, her stress levels were getting higher day by day. Almost reaching the roof.

She was too young to deal with all that. And being a Black was just adding a drop to her already worn state of mind. A bit more and she feared she would end up like her sister Bellatrix.

A shudder ran down her spine to the mere thought of the now Lady Lestrange. There were many words to describe her sister and deranged was the one that came often to the forefront of her mind.

Hearing her cackle every single time she kills or tortures someone, seeing the malevolent and frightening glint in her eyes that tells her that she more than enjoys what she does, was enough to convince Narcissa that her sister was a lost cause. But more than that, Bellatrix was proof enough that the Black Madness was not just some myth in the family and even showed its depth. Its insidious side.

Lucius rubbed her back not knowing what was in her mind because he was busy with his own thoughts. There was a great sense of relief washing down his body to know that his ‘Master’ was gone, or at least he would have some time without him to completely concentrate in what was important: his family, his job and, for the time being, to avoid at all costs being thrown into Azkaban due to being a Death Eater.

He knew that he had made a big mistake when he enrolled himself to ‘the cause’ but there was no way he could have said no to his Father and disappoint him in the process. Of course, he used to believe in what his Father believed. He used to look up to the great wizard his Father looked up to. It could be said that it was all an inherited respect, not something that was born from his thoughts. And that was his mistake.

What once was pride to follow a powerful dark wizard bound to do great things in the wizarding world, became an utter nightmare when the same man started losing his mind day by day, becoming a danger to not only his enemies but to the ones who followed him too. And Lucius’ Father wasn't able to see what was left of the man he had considered a friend during his Hogwarts years because of his untimely death.

There was no day Lucius didn’t dread the call of his Master and even when the other followers were people he knew, fellow Slytherins, he always felt lonelier and in need of companionship; perhaps only Severus was the only one he trusted, because Lucius was the one that got the dour young man in all that mess.

He really admired the young man. He barely blinked in front of the Dark Lord, his Occlumency shields always up, and their Lord was always praising him for it.

It was envy-inducing but his priorities were different from Severus. All Lucius wanted was to spend time with his Wife and his kids, just when he could finally conceive them.

It had been some pressuring years for both Narcissa and him. The more time it passed without them being able to have an Heir, the more the other Pureblood families were starting to whisper things. It was nerve-wrecking at first but then he learned to brush the comments aside while they lasted. After all, it was unbecoming of a Malfoy to react to such meaningless words.

No more, though. He not only had one but two kids. It was a bit of a shame that they were both girls but it had been a long time since the last female Malfoy was born that he didn't care they weren't boys. Due to his standing of the second richest family in Wizarding Britain, then there was no doubt that whoever married his little girls, they would be marrying into the Malfoy family and not his girls marrying to another family.

That, if he ever wanted them to get married. They were just so perfect in his eyes that he didn't want them far from him.

"Where are the girls? Are they already asleep?" He asked looking to the door wanting to run and hug their tiny little bodies. Narcissa giggled just seeing the face of her Husband, such a fool for his girls but she didn't blame him, they were really perfect. The two of them made really beautiful babies that it was a pity she couldn't conceive any more without the risk of dying.

"Yes, they are asleep. Shall we go see them and then go to bed ourselves?" She said while brushing the dust only she saw in his robes, a glint in her eyes. Lucius looked down at her and smirked.

"We shall." He replied offering his arm which she gladly took and both disappeared in the hallways of the large Manor.

  
  


...

  
  


In a little town in the magical side of Berkshire, stood a house, or what was left of it. Aurors surrounded the house while the residents of the little town were trying to sneak a peek over what had happened. Many heard an explosion that most likely caused the roof of the house to blow up, the windows to shatter and part of a wall to collapse, but they didn't know what exactly happened. Everybody knew who lived there. The Longbottoms.

A tall, thin and bony old lady wearing a bright green dress, a red handbag and a hat with a stuffed vulture on it was quickly making her way through the horde of people around the house. She was pretty nimble and dexterous despite her age while walking, and whoever didn't move she would throw a little jinx and shove them aside. Her mildly wrinkled face, which was normally severe and stony, showed anxiety and a shadow of apprehension when she was contacted by the Aurors.

"Lady, you cannot go further," a young Auror said stopping her strides. She threw him a nasty glare and the young man flinched back, but when she was about to make a biting comment another aged voice beat her to it.

"Better let her through, my boy, she may be old but she still has her wit." A man with white hair, a wrinkled face hidden behind half-moon spectacles, a long, white beard that reached his belt that was practically tucked in it, and bright orange robes came through the mass of people.

"Dumbledore," the young Auror squeaked.

"Albus," the old lady, Augusta Longbottom, greeted with a sharp nod and didn't stay with him to make trivial talk. She walked up the path towards the entrance where another Auror stopped her, but she was already impatient, what with having been already stopped and snapped. "I'm Augusta Longbottom, Frank Longbottom is my son and I want to know what happened here!" She demanded.

The Auror gave her a sympathetic look and led her to the kitchen where there were two bodies under white sheets. She stopped mid-step and felt her heart falter, her sight go blurry and her body sway until she felt an arm supporting her. She turned to look at the Auror and swatted his arm, her gaze falling on the two covered lumps on the floor.

"Are both...?" Her voice was low and broke in the middle.

"Yes, the kid survived, though," the Auror pointed to a bundle in a bassinet which was most probably taken there from upstairs taking into account the hour. It was really late. She walked closer to the bassinet and looked into it. A pink, pudgy baby was covered in a little blanket. He was sleeping but on his forehead there was a strange scar with the shape of a lightning.

"What happened?" She asked looking back to the Auror.

"You-Know-Who came and murdered them. We found Frank in the kitchen," he looked back to the body of ex-Auror Frank Longbottom. "There was a battle but he still lost. We found Alice upstairs in the boy's room. There was also a robe next to the body. The boy was crying and the scar was bleeding. We believe that he defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." A glint of admiration for the sleeping and oblivious baby shone in his eyes.

But Augusta's expression was not the same as him. A scowl appeared on her face while she wondered why the Dark Lord had to attack her son's house. There was no way that a pair of Aurors and a baby were any threat to him. She wanted answers.

"Augusta, we must talk," said Albus a few steps behind her. She turned around and her scowl deepened just seeing the old man. She was old but her mind was incredibly sharp. If anyone had answers then that must be Albus Dumbledore.

  
  


...

  
  


Sorterarvägen Street is a street in a muggle neighborhood in Umeå, Sweden. But at the end of the street that is next to the river many forget how it’s called, there was a big white house with a red roof. It was the last day of October, and just like the previous nights when the temperature was starting to get colder and colder to let winter come, this night was cold too. But people still walked around or just sat at the benches by the river. All of them, muggles. Yet in this house, lived a Magical family.

Of course no muggle had any idea the house was there, they would just think it was an empty spot with overgrown grass they cannot walk in. That last detail was all thanks to the anti-muggles wards around the residence that made them turn around to walk away and forget about the 'empty' spot.

Unlike other countries in Europe, Swedish don’t celebrate Halloween or Samhain, in the case of wizards. So it was a normal day like any other day for these muggles, yet for the people in the Magical house it was a bad day, a sad day. To Bosse Dahl, it was the worst day of his life.

The past months were the worst of his life when the Healers found out that his Wife and son were dying from Dragon Pox, and it was under the Healers advice that hemoved away from the busy life of Stockholm so she didn’t suffer much. His son was another story, in or out of Stockholm he was going to be extremely uncomfortable during the illness until he dies. There was nothing they could do, just make them as comfortable as possible.

And that was why they moved to this cottage in Umeå. With the winter coming, going to the house in Kiruna was just too extreme; the place could become a frozen landscape in a matter of seconds. It was a beautiful sight during the summer where despite of the little sun it received, it was still cold and the lands white. But in winter, it was just not something you would like to expose yourself to, and certainly not in this situation where lives were about to be lost.

Everybody in the Swedish Magical Parliament knew about the misfortune of one Bosse Dahl. As the only Noble and Most Ancient House in Sweden, all witches and wizards knew about their whereabouts. They were like celebrities, well-loved celebrities. The sorrow that stemmed from all the Magical community was enough to drown the whole world just for the loss of this prominent family.

Glances full of sadness, pats on the back, strained smiles were recurrent gestures dedicated to Lord Dahl, and it was just some sort of reminder for what was going to come soon.

And he couldn't really know what others would do or say if they knew that it wasn't only his Wife -news of her illness made public- but his son too, that was going to die. Thank the gods for small mercies that little tidbit was still secret, and only the Healers working for his family knew.

His Wife was the sweetest woman he had ever met. She was a prodigy in Healing Magic that it was such an irony for her to be dying from Dragon Pox. But even with vaccinations, the illness was the cause of most of the deaths in Swedish wizards and witches. Everybody knew that it was because of the dragons that lived in the Reserve that harbored almost a hundred dragons. But as a community that respected all Magical Creatures, there was little they could do but to take precautions with vaccinations.

The death rate was low but it still procured most deaths in Sweden.

Lord Dahl thought it was lucky that he himself was not sick, as that would have meant the disappearance of the most prominent house in Magical Sweden. Not only the Parliament would be in such disarray if that would happen, though, he also didn't want to think what the rest of the Magical community would do. So, although it was Lady and Heir Dahl that were going to die, there still was one remaining family member.

He was still young, not even 30 years-old, with long blond hair, high cheekbones, a sharp nose and blue eyes; a handsome man to most women. So, if he so wished, he could meet another woman to conceive another Heir. Those would be the thoughts of the Noble Houses if they knew the truth about his situation. They would parade their daughters in front of him to pick like cattle. After all, who wouldn't want to be part of the Noble of Most Ancient House of Dahl?

In the Master bedroom of the house, the family was gathered together with the Healers. On the bed, the already lifeless body of their son was lying beside Lady Dahl who was on the brink of death. The Healers were called by Lord Dahl when he noticed that his son was not breathing anymore and it made his wife get worse due to the grief. Her breathing was labored and they were waiting for her last breath that came when the clock announced it was past 11pm.

The Healers confirmed her death with such a somber air, seeing how one of their colleagues perished from such a common but deadly illness. Lord Dahl stood and let the Healers do their job. He first went to the living room and glanced at the many photos framed and hung on the walls; photos of him and his wife and of the three of them together. He closed his eyes to prevent the tears from falling and just headed to the door.

The cold air hit his face and a shiver ran down his spine but it didn’t stop him from stepping out and walk down the street. The same street that was now void of people due to the cold breeze coming from the river too. His tired frame looked like some haunted spirit in the dimly illuminated street.

He didn’t know how long he walked, but when he looked around, he noticed he had walked a lot as he had ended up far from his house. He sighed and made his way back. It was past midnight, perhaps, so the Healers must have already taken her wife and son’s bodies to the hospital to burn.

It was when he was back to Sorterarvägen Street that he noticed a strong magical fluctuation. The lights turned off in the whole street and he felt there was a powerful Ward by the river. His skin tingled with such thick and pure magic. It was a bit oppressive too, that, had he not been powerful himself, he would have dropped to his knees. He walked to where the magic was coming from and just when he was about to approach the Ward, he felt the magic enveloping him. His heart started beating really fast and for a moment he felt fear. It was an amazing and frightening feeling.

When the foreign magic receded, the Ward fell and the next thing he knew, he heard, were thewails of a crying baby. He looked towards a bench and with slow steps he noticed there, in the bench, was a baby indeed. His hair was black and it was tussled, his crying face, as well as his clothes, were covered in soot. The man stood there just staring at the tiny, writhing body of this unknown baby and while he looked, many questions formed in his head.

What was a baby doing outside? Was this baby the one that created such Ward? That terrifying magic came from the baby? Did the baby have parents? Or more like, were they the ones who left the baby here? Or something else happened? The soot maybe had something to do with it. Why was the baby covered in soot? It was a he? Or a she? The baby was too pale to be a he, too… cute. Maybe a she. She was too pale and her lips were starting to get blue.

That was when he realized the baby was cold. He ran to envelope the tiny bundle in his jacket and rubbed the little back to create friction and warm the baby. Was the ward keeping him warm and when it recognized that a person was near, it fell so whoever found him would be able to take care of the baby? Magic was able to do such a thing? It was as if it was sentient. He had read many theories about it but they were just that, theories. Well, almost everything was possible with magic, so the theory had its merits.

The baby finally stopped crying when the cold was no longer a problem. Lord Dahl’s breath hitched when the baby looked at him through the most vivid green eyes he had ever seen. The glint in them had nothing to do with the tears just shed, it meant power. The baby’s magic was powerful. They spent some time looking at each other. The baby was cooing while drooling over the little fist he had just put in his mouth and when he got bored of looking at the man in front of him, he looked around to finally yawn.

Lord Dahl took that as cue that the baby was tired and without thinking it twice, he walked back to his house. A Healer stayed behind to wait for Bosse Dahl and inform him that everything was taken care of. The Healer expected to see a devastated man when the door opened, but he never expected to see Lord Dahl coming in with a baby in his arms.

“What happened?” The Healer asked in his deep voice that sounded intimidating in Swedish but he was totally a gentle man, and more when it came to Lord Dahl. As the family Healer, Hynek Hammarskjöld respected Lord Dahl a lot.

“I found this baby outside.” Lord Dahl’s voice reflected that he himself still couldn’t believe what was going on.

Hynek looked at the baby that was about to fall asleep in the arms of the man and he silently walked towards Bosse and coaxed the baby out of his arms. The baby fussed a bit but otherwise didn’t cry. The Healer placed him on the couch he was sat on and began to run diagnostic spells to ensure the baby was healthy, what with the little clothes on and the cold night; he didn’t want the baby to catch a cold.

“The baby’s a boy and he’s alright. His lungs just had some smoke in them and his eyes were a bit irritated but other than that, he’s healthy.” Hynek informed in a professional voice.

“Smoke? He was lying on a bench near here…” Bosse trailed off. “There was a Ward.”

“What?” Asked the Healer not quite believing what he was hearing.

“When I was coming back, I sensed a strong magical fluctuation. I followed it and found a Ward; it was a powerful Ward that could put the ones from the Parliament to shame. When it fell, I found him inside. I think he created it, or more like his magic created it.” Lord Dahl mused out loud the events of the night.

“I didn’t sense any Magic.”

“That’s because of my Wards. You think I would have flimsy Wards in this house? Nothing comes in or out when it comes to Magic in here. That’s why the house is undetectable.” Bosse stared intently at the baby who was already asleep after all the fussing from the new man. “He was caught in a fire.” He mused out loud again. “That explains the smoke and soot. Maybe the parents couldn’t get him on time but he, in a way or another, Apparated out of the house and ended up here.”

Hynek nodded while listening to that reasoning. It made sense and explained most of the diagnostic he had gotten from his check-up. The baby’s identity was still a mystery, but at least they had an idea of what happened to him.

“I’ll take him to the hospital to check on him in case the diagnosis didn’t catch something. I will also look for recent fires in the country, maybe his family is still alive and we can contact it.”

Bosse nodded and let the Healer take the baby. After man and baby disappeared through the Floo Network, he noticed for the first time that his house felt empty and cold. It again hit him that he no longer had a wife and a son. He ungracefully let himself collapse on the couch, and it was until minutes later that he noticed that the couch was warm. There was Magic lingering around it which he recognized as the baby’s.

Bosse smiled.

He couldn’t believe that a baby was offering indirect comfort; for the only thing in the house that was warm was the couch. The house and his heart were cold. Just like the night of that last day of October.


	2. For those who can't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For those who can't, they will move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are you doing, lovely people?
> 
> I have faith that one day I will have a six-pack with all the exercise I am doing while in quarantine. How about you? Have you taken up something new in your house? I am very seriously thinking on painting my room. When my Dad goes out to buy the groceries I will ask him to buy the paint if there is any store open that sells them. 
> 
> I hope you are doing well! Hang in there and enjoy the update for today! Tomorrow I will update I don't go looking for the Storm. IDGLS, in short... too lazy to write the whole title, lol I have a virtual class today in less than 2 hours. I still have to finish writing La Mia Stella's chapter, and then I will see what else I can write. I even want to start new fics or original works but I am drowning with the ones I have ongoing already! .... I'm busy, busy @.@   
> I even forgot to send my homework yesterday, so I have to send it double today, lol... 
> 
> Anyways! Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!   
> Stay safe and beautiful!

* * *

The next few days had a sense of desolation to Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. A sense of wanting to escape but they had no strength, no will to do anything at all.

It was shameful, but they had no desire to change their situation with what was happening. The funeral was just as dark and somber as they thought it would be. It passed in a blur, between words said by sad voices, light touches and pats and some more gestures they sincerely paid no attention to. It was too much. Support words sounded so empty, so meaningless. Reassurances that everything was going to be fine were laughable, such a tasteless joke.

For them, it was like the buzzing of several annoying mosquitoes that they, sadly, couldn’t kill.

Sirius hated them. They knew nothing about what he was going through.

It was preposterous of them to say they knew what it felt like to lose one so dear. He had just lost his best friend, his brother in all but blood; his family. What did they know about him? What did they know about James? Nothing! They had no right to say that everything was going to be fine because it wasn’t! He had lost everything! Even his godson! Couldn’t they see that? There was nothing of his poor godson. There wasn’t a body to collect. To bury. There were just the memories to bury and they weren’t enough.

What was fine from that? They were just a bunch of hypocrites with no idea of what happened.

Where were they when it all happened?

Where was him when it all happened?

Remus didn't look young anymore. There was no mischievous glint in his eyes. No determination. No thought of being the young man he once was.

Despite being in his early twenties; his scars, the sleepless nights following the attack to the Potters, the many times he had to coax a bottle of Firewhisky out of Sirius’ hands to lead him to his room and get some proper rest, and his own grief were taking its toll on him. He was also afraid. It had been years since he last feared the full moon. He used to spend it together with his friends, running as if life was nothing. Free.

There was no more freedom; just fear and uncertainty. He didn't know how his wolf would react to the disappearance of his pack, when it would no longer smell them. And that was what he feared. The notion of knowing, of losing the little control he had over the beast.

He couldn't exactly rely on Sirius seeing how the man had become an empty body barely surviving these past days. An Inferius would look livelier than Sirius, to be honest, but he couldn’t exactly blame him. Though, that didn’t stop him from worrying. He pondered if Sirius was eating but asking him to do so would be so hypocritical since he wasn't doing the same.

They were staying in the Ancestral House of Black because a week after the funeral, Sirius was notified by his mother that his brother, Regulus, was missing and when she went to check on the Family Tapestry, it showed that his little brother was dead. Walburga Black, regrettably confessed to Sirius that he wasn’t officially disowned due to his Father’s, Orion Black, wish. He was simply erased from the Tapestry or burnt, just how it looked; meaning he had been Lord Black since his Father’s death.

Both had a fight full of yelling and shouting that Walburga was dominating when it came to the volume until they finally came to the point that she was going to move to one of the Manors they owned in France and let him cope with everything going on alone. She practically abandoned him, but he couldn’t care less. He was grieving, they were both grieving; him, the Potters and now his brother, her, the son she considered the perfect Black. And then he was left to take care of the House he held no feelings for.

Thank Merlin for small mercies and his Mother took the grumpy elf, Kreacher, with her.

The overall situation was too much for Sirius and Remus was of no help either. Or more like, both didn't know how to deal with everything that was happening around them.

Saying they were lost was an understatement.

So, they spent the days pitying each other and barely talking.

It was the day before the full moon and Remus was restless, tired and wanting to sleep to never wake up. He didn't want to leave Sirius alone and he didn't want to be alone during the full moon. But he was unsure about the wolf, and putting Sirius in danger was not something he wanted to do. His thoughts were a mess and he wasn't sure what to do. He had no other place to stay and being near people was no option; but, thinking about going alone somewhere far, his mind numbed.

"Your tea has already gone cold." A gruff voice said from the kitchen doorway. Remus looked up and found Sirius standing there. He was nursing a half-empty bottle with what he was sure was Firewhisky in his arms, and on the verge of tears. An expression that was common on Sirius' face lately.

"I know." Remus replied with his own gruff voice.

"What are you going to do?" Sirius asked sitting across him.

"About what?" Remus' eyes went back to his cold tea. He hadn't even noticed it was not hot anymore, lost in his thoughts as he had been.

"The full moon." Black said, his hand automatically looking for his bottle to take a sip. But it didn't reach his mouth.

"Stop that." The werewolf pleaded and then sighed. "I don't know what to do about it, but I can't leave you alone because of your drinking problem. I don't know what you'll do if I leave you alone for even one hour-"

"I'm not a kid." Sirius snapped moving his arm away from Remus' grip and took a big gulp.

"Surely you are not acting like an adult either. Get a hold of yourself, Sirius!"

"Well, you are not doing anything to help! I have lost James and Harry!" The black-haired man abruptly stood throwing the chair backwards. Remus didn't stay behind and did the same seeing the sudden motion. With the full moon close, his wolf was more unstable, reacting to the littlest show of defiance and hostility. It was with barely a little control that he wasn't growling to Sirius. Yet.

"I lost them too! We have lost Lily too! Don't think you are the only one suffering here. Don't be so self-centered to think that all the world's problems are on your shoulders! You don't even have to drink to look so petty yourself." Remus sneered.

"As if you have any right to say that to me! You are the pettiest man I've known my whole life, what with being a werewolf-!"

He couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop. Remus growled and lounged to Sirius throwing both to the ground, the bottle broke and the shards encrusted in their rolling bodies. Their wands were forgotten, together with all notion of being wizards when they started punching and kicking each other on the kitchen's floor.

Sirius already sported a split lip and a bloody nose while Remus' left eye was starting to darken and swell. When Sirius kicked Remus on the stomach making the latter grunt and bend because of the pain, he was able to dislodge from the werewolf. A tiny part in his mind was scolding himself on how stupid he was to fight back a werewolf. He guessed the only reason Remus hadn't torn him to pieces was because he was his friend but with the growling coming from the man, he wasn't so sure anymore so he ran.

Gryffindor bravery be damned, he wanted to live.

The new portrait Walburga Black left behind in Grimmauld Place of herself screamed her lungs out at them when they ran past her but they didn't care. Remus caught up with Sirius when they were running by the informal lounge. He threw himself to the black haired man and broke a table in the process.

"Bloody hell, Remus! That was my favorite table!" Sirius yelled when he was pinned by the werewolf. Both were panting because of the exertion as they had barely moved around the house the past days, so a bit of running made them tired.

"Don't lie; you don't even like this house." Remus replied with no bite in his voice when his breathing went back to normal, and sighing, he moved aside.

"I know. I was just thinking that maybe if you got angrier, you would tear down this awful place. Go all wolf power, you know." He grinned.

That startled a laugh out of Remus and kept laughing, making Sirius laugh too. Whenever Remus laughed it meant he had said something funny. It was hard work to get a smile or a laugh out of the serious and proper man, if someone asked Sirius. Sincerely, he didn't understand Remus' sense of humour but his laugh always made Sirius laugh. It was contagious. So there they were, laughing on the floor laying on the remnants of a table Sirius didn't even like as Walburga's constant yelling could be heard in the background.

"What are we doing?" Asked Remus when they were already silent.

"Don't ask me. I'm half drunk and half beaten that I just want to sleep for a year." Remus snorted to Sirius’ words.

"Yeah, that would be awesome." Remus whispered but Sirius was able to hear him due to the silence of the place. "We are not good dealing with grief, what with us running away from things instead of facing them."

Sirius stayed silent after those words. His friend was right, they were about to fall down to pieces -or at least he was going to get torn to pieces by the werewolf if he kept fighting him. Their best friend's family was gone. His own family was practically gone with Regulus dead. His Mother, even alive, didn’t count. Remus had nobody but him and he still had to deal with the full moon. It wasn't hard to think that all the problems of the world were on their shoulders. They were alone. Maybe...

"Maybe we should do just that." Sirius mused out loud.

"What?" Remus furrowed his brows.

"Run away."

"And go where?"

"Anywhere," replied Sirius closing his eyes.

"Tomorrow's the full moon." Remus said in a low voice that had a hint to be mulling over what Sirius said.

"Then let's go after the full moon. We need to escape a bit. Enjoy our lives. Do it for them." Remus nodded at that. "And when we are ready, we can come back."

"And if we aren't ready?"

"They say women in Ibiza are beautiful." The grin on Sirius’ face promised nothing good that Remus laughed for the second time.

That was the Sirius he knew. Not the man having a bottle in his hand, drowning in his own pain, sulking, keeping everything to himself and broken; just how he had been feeling too. They were sometimes too predictable, too similar that he wondered why he hadn't done anything to help Sirius deal with everything before. It would have helped both, to be honest.

He wouldn't complain if Sirius had an arm around a woman's shoulders if that helped his friend. Hell, he would look for a woman himself if that helped him too. He hummed in contentment. He liked the idea of spending some time for themselves, to heal on their own way, living life for those who couldn't and move on because that was what their friends would have liked of them. To live.

The following day, on the full moon, a black dog and a huge wolf ran wild in some forest in England, both howling to the moon their sorrow and their promise to live a new life. For those who can't.

  
  


...

  
  


"You're telling me you want to make this kid the beacon of Light?" The old woman asked the old man with a great amount of incredulity and disbelief.

Augusta Longbottom finally accepted Albus Dumbledore's invitation to talk or more like, she invited him to finally tell her all the drivel the old man would come up with. A week after burying his son and her daughter-in-law, a week she spent properly mourning Frank and Alice’s death, she sent an owl to Albus and asked him to take tea together with her. That only meant she had questions and demanded answers from him; that, Albus knew too well.

Neville Longbottom was left to the care of the House-elves since Dowager Longbottom had no time to take care of him and was never in the mood to even look at him. If what Albus was telling her was the truth then, it was that boy's fault that his Frank was dead. But her scorn had a new target and that was the man sitting in front of her.

Since when did the leader of the Light follow useless prophecies? Didn't he know that those are only fulfilled if you believed in them? Well, some are fulfilled either way but a great deal of them, however, was never known. There were thousands of prophecies in the Prophecy Hall in the Ministry, but how many of them were exactly fulfilled? Most people didn't even know there were prophecies about them! And then, this crazy old man comes and tells her that her grandson was destined to vanquish the most powerful Dark Lord of all times?

The senile old fool finally lost it.

She would have laughed if it wasn't unbecoming of a lady raised in the Pureblood ways. For all she knew, her grandson looked as good as a squib. Before all the mess that was the end of the war, she had heard from the Potters, the Abbots, and the Macmillans, even from those Weasleys that their kids had already displayed at least a bit of accidental magic and they were all babies like him. But Neville was just worried about food and sleeping. Useless child that one is. And her Frank died because of him.

"You should air that head of yours, Albus, there is no way that child can even be magical." She said with disdain after sipping on her tea.

"Each kid has their own pace, Augusta. Neville can still be a magical kid even if he hasn't shown it. He has destroyed Voldemort," replied Dumbledore, a twinkle in his blue eyes. But even with his entire cheerful disposition, Augusta felt there was more to the wonderful and totally foolish story of a baby being powerful enough to vanquish a Dark Lord.

Yet, she knew Albus wouldn’t tell her anything of it. What a waste of time, she thought. He tries to convince her of some idiotic hero ideas just to keep her ignorant of things. Well, she won’t play that game. It wasn’t worth it.

"So you say, but nobody has seen it. And a prophecy is no proof of that. Many will believe that tale about destiny and an unknown power. Go feed them that but don’t come here and say this nonsense expecting me to believe it. That child has no power to vanquish nobody.” She dismissed with a wave of her hand. Albus sighed and shook his head. He knew that Augusta wouldn't believe what he had to say. She has always been... unreasonable, to say the least.

He thought that Voldemort would go to the Potters since Harry was born on the 31st while Neville was born on the 30th but he had no idea why he chose the second. Perhaps it was due to the fact that Neville was a Pureblood that he made him his target. After all, a half-blood like Harry wouldn't be much of a threat. Seriously, Albus sometimes wondered when Tom had started thinking of himself a Pureblood when he was a half-blood himself.

Either way, the Longbottoms were dead and only Neville was left; the Potters were all dead. Sometimes he wondered if he had taken the best decisions. It was him who suggested going into hiding. Perhaps if the Longbottoms and the Potters were seen in battle then, that would mean they didn't believe in such a prophecy thus making Voldemort not take it into account but he didn't want to risk it.

As a result, two Light families were dead, one completely wiped out. He sighed again and looked at the woman in front of her. She had aged since she knew her son was dead. Actually, Albus has seen that everybody has aged in this war, even himself. Young ones made soldiers, innocents dying, children ending up orphans, complete families vanishing. The end of a war had always two faces. That of relief and that of desolation both sides display; no exceptions. At the end of the day, both sides lost so much.

"At least consider it." He said in a tired voice. "People already know he's the Dark Lord Vanquisher. The-Boy-Who-Lived. People need someone to believe in, someone to guide them."

"Do you even listen to what you say?" Augusta's face hardened. "How can a mere child guide a country? That's the Minister's job. Don't put such pressure on a kid. He's just that, a kid and an orphan at that." She went back to her tea and made it as if she wasn't going to listen to more of the drivel he was spouting.

"Alright. Take good care of him, Augusta." She scoffed and didn't say another word. Albus stood and left the Manor.

Augusta couldn't believe the nerve that old man had. What prophecy. What vanquisher. Thanks to that, Neville ended up an orphan and what's more, Albus wanted to make of that child someone to be worshiped when all he needed was to live a normal life. There was no need of fame, glory and all that. Just to live for those who can't.

  
  


...

  
  


He didn't know what he was doing. Well, he knew. He was going to the hospital but he wasn't sure why he had to be there when he was supposed to be mourning. It was just that he had the feeling that whatever was going to happen, what he was going to hear, it was meant to happen. He also had to know. His Wife would have been disappointed if he didn't ask.

He knocked on the door and entered when he was told to.

"I wasn't expecting you to come... again." Hynek sighed. The man in front of him shifted showing how uncomfortable he truly was. Of course he didn't need to visit but something told him, he had to. He just had to.

"How is he?" Bosse asked sitting on one of the chairs in the office.

"He has a mild cough due to the smoke and the sudden cold air but he's still fine." Hynek features softened. In a way, he had an idea why Bosse Dahl was there. He had just lost his Wife and son, so it was a bit normal for him to ask for a baby he found. It was a coincidence. But for them, wizards, it was fate. Destiny. And considering the group Lord Dahl was associated with, then it was easier for him to believe that he had to be there. "By the way, people are starting to talk."

"What do they say?" Asked Bosse a bit lost in thought but able to follow the conversation.

"That your son is sick too." Bosse startled. Oh yeah, nobody knows that his boy died too, he thought. He sagged a bit and started to ponder.

The community only knew that Lady Dahl was sick with Dragon Pox. Since by the time they revealed it, she was indeed the only one sick. It wasn't until they moved to Umeå when they discovered their son was starting to show the symptoms of Dragon Pox too. Those were hard times.

So, when she died, it was the same. It was only said that she was the only one. Mostly, it was because he wanted to have some time to rest, mourn and think about what he was going to do, how to deal with everything. He needed time. And if he had informed the Parliament that not only his Wife but his Heir had died too, then sooner rather than later, he was going to have many Lords and Ladies offering their daughters to him.

He understood that they meant no harm, that it was just to keep the Dahl line and all that since he was practically the only one left. What with every generation only managing to have one kid due to the pressure of being the only Noble and Most Ancient House in Sweden. He knew that the other reason for the conceiving of fewer descendants was because of the family business, but it still was a bit saddening that there could only be one Heir each generation.

Still, he wanted some time and space to think things through and it was all he could do the past few days after the death of his Wife and son.

It was fortunate for him the Parliament gave him some time to mourn. And as he couldn’t stand being alone in either of his houses, he went to see an old friend and told her his situation and her answer was nothing he expected to hear from her. _'Corona Borealis is shining in the sky, looking for Arianrhod'._ He always had trouble understanding her speech, nothing she said made sense and it was all cryptic. He always wondered why he looked for her when he needed advice nobody else could provide.

Then again, it was no wonder she had the job she had.

"Everything is falling into pieces." Bosse mused when he was starting to realize why he was there. When he turned to Hynek, he noticed the Healer was looking at him with knowing eyes but he was still full of confusion. "Did you find his family?" Hynek sighed.

"There have been two fires in the whole country and none was that big for people to be involved or suffer damage. So there was no reason for him to be found in that state. He must have Apparated from another place. But for a baby to Apparate from far away... the magic..." Hynek trailed off. Bosse nodded.

"I went to see Agnetha." Hynek's interest picked up at that. "Borealis has appeared." He relayed the message she had said. Then it clicked. Bosse had heard of a Borealis long time ago, and almost as if it was rehearsed, both their features darkened when they both reached the same conclusion. It has begun.

"You went to see the old man?"

"Not yet. I will have to do it soon." Hynek nodded. "I have to ask a favor of you."

So it has come to this, Hynek mused. The world has had some tumultuous times lately and to think that they have not ended. He sighed. There was nothing he could do. He had to do his job and knowing Bosse, he would do his no matter what. Even in mourning period. And that was just another thing he had to admire of the man. He was stubbornly determined, the perfect moralist and a charming leader.

Merlin knew how much that man has sacrificed and has continued to sacrifice. He no longer had a family but he would do what was correct; what was expected of him. Hynek just wished Bosse could be happy one day. He, more than anyone, deserved it.

Bosse knew he had to see Andrea Morosini to report what Agnetha had said. Now that he knew what she meant with her words. He had hoped it wouldn’t have come to that point. It wasn't the best moment for him and he knew it. But, even when it hurt him, there were things that were more pressuring. He was at least thankful he had a few days to mourn his family. Yet when it came to his family business, then everything else was secondary, even his own feelings.

He reassured himself that he was prepared. That he was going to do fine. That the world won't crumble even if he made a few mistakes. That just how he was going to guide Borealis, Borealis was going to guide him.

"Hej, Henrik." He said in a low voice holding to the tiny bundle in his arms. Vivid, green eyes locked with his blue ones.

It pained him to call this baby the same name of his now dead son, but he was going to be strong because now they both were alone in the world. They were the same. Bosse had nobody to take care of and the baby had nobody to take care of him. They needed each other. They needed to be for each other what each lost. For those who can't do it anymore. He was going to be strong. They were going to be fine.

"I'll take care of you, little Borealis."

* * *


	3. A little seed was planted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fates intertwine. 
> 
> Fates begin their course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A suuuuper long chapter for this fic... Let me remind you that this fic only had three chapters written so far and that it won't be updated soon. I hoped you enjoyed these three chapters... I will try my best to finish my other fics so I can resume this one. 
> 
> It was a challenge from a good friend of mine, so I DO need to finish it, lol... 
> 
> Thanks for showing your support to this fic by leaving your kudos and I just ask for you to patiently wait for the next update :D
> 
> Stay safe beauties!

* * *

“I said no!” The squeaky voice resounded in the whole room.

Lucius was flabbergasted while his Wife, Narcissa, was impassively drinking her tea as if the situation developing in front of her had nothing to do with her. And she was a bit right, since she had warned her Husband that his idea was a really bad one; but as Lord Malfoy, he expected to be listened to without any sign of retaliation.

Sure, after the war, he had been struggling to clean his name, to move on and not be seen as the Death Eater he once was proud to be. It had become his greatest shame but that didn’t stop him from persevering and doing his utmost to regain his standing in the magical community. Lately, his influence has been rising, and with it his confidence to advice people in the Ministry. Most would never forgot that he was, after all, a man with power and money and that despite his dark past- which he declared to be under the Imperius curse- they would still listen to him.

But all that was thrown out of the huge window when he was faced with the person in front of him. The angelic face of their oldest daughter was blazing with anger. He could see how her blonde hair was starting to rise, an oppressive force like static present in the room. Lucius inwardly sighed. His daughter, Capella Lucila Malfoy was such a handful that he always cringed whenever he had to talk of such important matters with her.

"Capella, dear, please calm down." The soothing voice of his Wife was enough to barely assuage the little girl’s anger. He glanced at Narcissa thankfully but regretted doing it as her expression was so unimpressed that he felt completely alone in that place. Having three women in the house was nothing to take lightly. And more if the three of them had Black blood in them. He cleared his throat to give himself some courage to continue with the disastrous meeting.

"I know you said so, Capella, but as a Malfoy and first daughter you have a duty." He winced when he felt a cold breeze sweep past him. Definitely not the correct words to say.

"Well, it's not my fault I am the first daughter or even being born as a Malfoy. I know my duties but being involved in a betrothal is not one I want to fulfill. So, I have to make this clear, Father," Lucius winced again at the cold tone she used with that word. "I have no intentions of getting married with any man that doesn't accept me and Lyra together." She punctuated those words with a stomp.

Narcissa gently placed her tea on the little table beside her armchair and pinned her daughter with a hard look. If she wanted things to work with her daughters, then she had to do it herself. It wasn't that she didn't trust Lucius, but as a man, he didn't understand much about women, Pureblood women. Being raised by only his Father was of no help either.

"Then, let's make a deal." She said with all the intention of the world. Her daughter, despite her age of 6 years old, was a bit skeptical. Guarded, would be the word. "If you find someone who can take both your sister and you as Wives before you turn 15, then forget about the betrothal. If not, your birthday present will be a betrothal with one of the few men without one."

Capella shuddered. Her latest lessons about Wizarding culture were about betrothals since she was at the age most respectable Pureblood families betrothed their kids. And her sister, Lyra,had asked what would happen if one was betrothed past 15-years-old. They were told only too young or too old Heirs were available. And most Heirs who were old were not the nicest of them. Her Father called them 'people unworthy of having magic'. And she had to agree with him about that.

Many of those types of people were like Marcus Flint; just average wizards with no looks and a sadistic mind. He was only ten but he was already cruel and unforgiving. Her stomach twisted when she remembered the one and only time she met him and he was grinning like a loon while burning a squirrel alive. No, she was going to find someone who would truly love her for who she was, not for her money or title as a Malfoy; and most importantly, someone who would marry both her and her sister together.

She always thought that without her sister, her life would be incomplete.

Lucius watched with great interest how her daughter mulled about her Mother's words. She knew what was at stake if she accepted the deal so he approved his daughter thinking things carefully before coming to a decision. He had to accept that he hadn't thought of that option, looking for a person willing to marry two women. And it had to be a man really brave -or foolish- to marry two Malfoy women.

Triad marriages were extremely rare but not frowned upon in the Wizarding world so he didn't worry about the matter. What he worried was the almost impossible task given by his Wife and what would mean for the Malfoy House to marry their daughters with a lowly House.

That is why he wanted to marry at least Capella, his firstborn, to a good family. None would be as good as the Malfoy family but the only one capable of being on the same level was either the Peverell or the Black House; the first dead and the second an impossibility. What with Sirius Black gone from the country and too old for his little girl. With Lyra, he didn't have to worry; the girl was so passive that perhaps marriage was the least she would think of.

"Very well," his daughter's voice took him out of his musings. "I accept." He blinked. He didn't expect her to actually agree to Narcissa's deal. He glanced at his Wife and saw a smirk on her face. He had the feeling he had missed something. Though he was sure he didn't want to know, actually.

"Ok, the-" His words were cut off when one of the House-elves, Dobby, appeared beside him.

"Master Malfoy, sir, there's being guests in the Receiving Room, sir." The elf squeaked rubbing its hands together, nervous. He was young and new so he was prone to make mistakes.

Narcissa and Capella raised one of their eyebrows in the same fashion and looked at Lucius silently demanding for an explanation. Narcissa wasn't expecting any guests, she wasn't told of any arriving but she had a hunch of who they could be. Capella was just looking at the new elf in front of her. She hadn't seen it before and her mind was working at a mile to ask for it because she needed one. She was a Malfoy, and she needed her own personal elf.

"Lead them here." He plainly said. The House-elf just bowed and popped out.

Minutes later, a man with his son were arriving to the Lounge they were in. Narcissa pursed her lips; the only thing that showed her displeasure at what was seeing and just looked away. Lucius inwardly sighed because he knew that what was about to happen was going to be big. And he was right when he again felt the cold breeze, but this time not just around him but in the whole room.

Capella was furious and seething. She glared at her Father and stomped out of the room without even greeting their guests.

"I guess we came at a bad time." The man chuckled.

"Indeed you did," said Narcissa in a plain tone sipping at her tea that she warmed after being cooled down thanks to her daughter's rage.

Lord Nott just nodded knowing Lady Malfoy was displeased, at what, he had no idea but he didn't want to focus on her wrath. Theodore, Heir of the Noble and Ancient House of Nott, just looked at his Father not knowing what to do. He was told by his Father that there was a possibility for him and Capella Malfoy to be betrothed. He really didn't care about marriage and all that, but he didn't want to disappoint his Father either so he just went along with the plan.

He was surprised that not even seconds after they arrived at their meeting place, he was welcomed by a biting cold from a furious, cute blonde girl. She had caught his attention, totally; but even before getting the chance to say something, she stormed out of the room leaving him perplexed. Her magic was like a buzzing, tingling feeling on his skin and he rather liked that. Add to that the fresh scent of citrus from her hair and the silver eyes that barely gazed at him, made his heart beat wildly in his chest.

He instantly developed a crush on his not-betrothed.

"I apologize for my daughter's behavior," said Lord Malfoy taking the boy out of his stupor. The man was the image of a perfect Pureblood and in a way Theodore respected him for that, maybe a little more than his Father. And when told he had a possibility to become part of the Malfoy family, he felt a bit honored.

"Worry not, my friend. I guess she didn't take the news well." Lord Nott dismissed with a wave of his hand after he took the seat he was offered by Lord Malfoy. "Little Capella has always been a bright yet quite short-tempered girl, from what I've seen, so it's no surprise to know that her reaction was of total refusal." Lucius didn't quite like the description Lord Nott made of his daughter but let it pass. "I confess I was a bit unsure of this betrothal due to her personality since my Theodore is calm and somewhat bookish." The man said with pride in his voice while putting his hand on his son's shoulder.

"Ah, that sounds so much like Lyra."

And just as if she was summoned at the mere mention of her name, another blonde girl appeared poking her little head in the room. Unlike her sister who had long, straight hair, hers was curly and shorter, reaching the middle of her back. Her eyes were the brightest blue and her face looked more lady-like instead of the mischievous one of Capella with her eyes like liquid silver. She looked like a mini Narcissa with all her poise and elegance, just with curly hair.

"Lyra, dear, these are Lord and Heir Nott, Theodore here is of your age." Lucius presented ignoring completely the disapproving look his Wife was giving him.

"It's nice to meet you Lord Nott, Heir Nott." She curtsied to each. Then, she nodded at her Mother to then turn to Lucius. "Father, Capella is not in the house." Lucius and Narcissa straightened when they heard that.

"I didn't feel her leaving through the Wards." Lucius mumbled.

"That's because she left through the Floo. I saw her entering the room and came straight here to tell you. She looked really angry." Her voice was soft and melodious making everybody in the room pay attention to her.

Her eyes flickered to Theodore guessing the reason of her sister's anger was the boy present. Theodore shivered under her cold gaze; it was like facing an arctic desert with no chance of coming out alive that he just looked away. He definitely didn't like her. Lyra just smirked slightly at the intimated boy. She didn't need to be a genius to know what all the circus was about, and she just sent the same disapproving look Narcissa sported to her Father.

Lucius didn’t need to be told twice when he was already walking out of the room followed by a worried Narcissa, the two soon arriving at the Receiving room. Lucius immediately took his wand out and began chanting. Narcissa waited for the spell to tell them where Capella had gone to. Her daughter didn't have many options to go to, she was friends with the Parkinson and Greengrass Heiresses but with her daughter being angry, Narcissa wasn't sure. She was unpredictable in that state.

"It's blocked." Lucius finally said.

"What?" She asked wanting to confirm if what she had just heard was true.

"The fireplace where she ended up is blocked. Closed. I can't go through." He said in more detail, his voice laced with worry and fear.

  
  


...

  
  


His Father always tried to teach him to be patient. To wait for things to happen when they were bound to happen but it was for naught. Henrik Dahl was such a curious kid that he would always end up in some sort of magical problem. Like the time he touched a book he was not supposed to in his Father's study, and ended up glued to the ceiling for five hours, or when he ended up in the Ministry when he activated a Portkey and had to be held in the Security Office since his Father was not there.

His Father, Bosse Dahl, was used to his little adventures that whenever his son looked a bit shifty and was avoiding his eyes, then it meant that he had done something.

Bosse obviously didn't have the heart to scold him but he made the boy reflect that what he did could put him in danger. The man still shivered when he remembered the day a four-year-old Henrik got really close to a Swedish Short-snout in a visit to the Swedish Reserve just because he liked the dragon. If the caretakers hadn't been close... Bosse didn't want to imagine.

But he was still surprised that Henrik got that close to the dragon when one second before he was right beside him. Bosse suspected that Henrik Apparated near the dragon. He was impressed, but his fear squashed that feeling. It was the first and last time he severely scolded the kid.

Henrik still remember that incident but that didn't deter him to get his curiosity satiated when it came to magic. He has already read all the books about basic magic he was allowed to read, and it could be said that he has even memorized them. He even surprised himself when he could do magic without a wand and immediately showed his Father who spent several minutes with a gobsmacked face staring at a little orb of light coming from his hands.

After that, his Father promised to present him to a person who would be able to teach him more magic when he was a bit older.

Finally, now that he was six years-old, his Father told him that it was time for him to meet that person, and that was the reason why he was perched in front of the Fireplace. He was waiting for his Father to come back with said person. He was told to wait in the library but he got bored after half an hour and decided to wait by the Fireplace. His heart started beating like crazy when the green flames came to life but instead of the tall figure of his Father, a little one was spat out from them.

The little body stumbled and landed on him. His back hit the floor hard making him grunt and a bit dizzy. He stayed there for a few seconds trying to get his bearings back. He sighed and looked down to whatever was on him.

The first thing he saw was platinum blonde hair, then he noticed little hands clutching to his shirt and a trembling body. He leaned his head to the side to look straight to the face of a girl who had her eyes tightly shut. He thought that maybe she entered the wrong Fireplace. It was normal when it was the first time for a kid. He also got lost and ended up in Malmö instead of Stockholm. His Father almost turned grey from worry.

He slowly raised his hand and gently patted the girl's back in case she was afraid, or about to get sick. Traveling by Floo was not pleasant after all. The girl opened her eyes and emerald locked with silver for a few seconds. Her eyes widened, and she quickly scrambled off the boy, kneeling his stomach in the process making him curl due to the pain.

"Oh my... I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." She stuttered all flustered because of her lack of decorum. Not only did she fall as soon as she stepped out of the Floo like some commoner, but even tackled a stranger. No matter if that stranger was a boy she assumed was her age, lack of decorum was lack of decorum for a proper girl like her, a Malfoy.

"Nej...it...ok." Henrik scolded himself for not paying attention to his English tutor. Now he needed to make use of his limited English but he was sure that he was going to embarrass himself in front of the British girl; the accent telling on her. Capella frowned when she heard the response; she had the feeling that she was not in England anymore, what with his accent and the... nej. She stood straighter and clearing her throat, she curtsied.

"Nice to meet you, my name is Capella Lucila Malfoy and I wish to know where this is." She said in an amiable tone and pronouncing her words slowly in case her suspicions of being in another country were true. She expertly hid her distress of ending up far away from her home and the fear of not being able to go back. But she thought that if this kid didn't help her then, maybe an adult that could speak fluent English could.

Henrik repeated her words in his mind trying to understand what she was saying. Fortunately, it was easy, or more like basic. He understood she was presenting herself. Her name was Capella. Her surname rang in his mind telling him it was important but he didn't know why; he saved that information to ask his Father later. The second part he didn't quite understand, ok, he didn't understand at all but after thinking hard, he caught the 'where' so he supposed she was asking where she was.

Sigh, after that he was going to put more effort in learning English. Bulgarian and German were better to his ear, but he wasn't going to neglect the other languages anymore.

"Henrik Dahl." He presented himself with his right hand on his chest giving her a bow. He was sure that she was a Pureblood by the way she was standing and how she introduced herself. "Du... er... you..." Well, isn't this situation embarrassing? He thought. He pointed to the floor in hopes that she understood that he was referring to the place. "Sorterarvägen... Umeå, Sverige." He said. She blinked. He sighed. "Uh, Sverige... um... Swe... Swe..." He groaned frustrated making her giggle.

He huffed and without asking, took her hand and led her to the living room where there was a flag of Sweden, maybe like that she would know where she was.

He ignored her words that sounded indignant in his ears but as he couldn't understand, he was going to feign ignorance. He felt a bit bad for manhandling her but he wanted her to understand him. When they arrived to the Living, he immediately pointed to the flag that was displayed proudly in the corner. Capella looked at where he was pointing and stared blankly at the flag. At first she didn't recognize it, but then she got it. Her face morphed to one of astonishment, incredulity and a bit of horror.

"What!" She shrieked. Henrik flinched at the volume of her voice. "You're telling me that I am in Sweden?! That I ended up in bloody Sweden through the Floo?!" She pierced Henrik with a look that demanded answers and hoping for him to tell her that it was some sort of joke. Henrik just stared back; he didn't get a thing she said, so he just slowly nodded not quite sure if that was what he was supposed to do.

Well, it seemed he did something wrong because she began to rant. He just stood there wondering if she had Banshee blood in her due to the volume of her voice. It was a possibility, though she was quite cute, so maybe it was a faraway ancestor. He wanted to laugh. The more she yelled, the more her hair stood as if she _was_ a Banshee. It was a bit cold but he knew true cold so it was ok with him. He guessed she was displaying accidental magic and she couldn't control it, so he just let her be.

Finally, she stopped. Her breath coming out in pants and her eyes were misty.

Oh no. Henrik panicked. He knew what was coming. She dropped to her knees and started wailing. He was surprised because when crying she was even louder, but then he took pity of her and knelt in front of her to embrace her. She clung to him as if her life depended on it and he sighed. For some reason he was always the unfortunate soul that had to comfort people. Whenever he got together with kids his age to play, one would tend to end up crying and instinctively look for him even if he was far away.

His Father once told him that it was because of his magic. Most children had no control of their magic so it was in disarray. His magic was mostly contained and he exuded a calming feeling that children often mistaken him for an adult; though many adults didn't have the same feeling he exuded. His Father said that feeling was because he was a very powerful wizard even if he was young. Henrik accepted that reason because his Father had the same calming effect and he was powerful too.

Automatically, he started to envelope her in his magic to sooth her. Her breath hitched when she felt it but then just relaxed. She felt as if she was in her Father's arms whenever she was comforted when upset but even better. It was as if she was floating or lying on the fluffiest cloud. She felt so safe that she didn't want to move at all; instead she buried herself more into his small chest. The soft pats on her back almost lulled her to sleep but his stuttering and insecure voice took her out of the stupor.

"You... ok?" She wanted to laugh. He was horrible with his English but she appreciated the effort he was making to make her a bit comfortable in the unknown place. She nodded but didn't make the effort to move, she was too relaxed to do so. If her Father looked at her, he would have already scolded her due to her lack of decorum for being in a boy's embrace but she didn't care. She wanted to stay there forever. Ah, but good things never last forever. "Mamma," said the boy, Henrik she recalled, with a surprised tone.

She wanted to groan but her drilled manners told her to get herself together to apologize for her actions so she stood and looked for the person, because even she understood that he saw his Mother.

But she saw no one in the doorway from where she came from and neither from the front door. She was starting to realize that the place was small, maybe a cottage. She refused to believe that a nice-looking boy like Henrik was some common wizard; he had to be at least a Pureblood or a Half-blood with a good position. She looked back to the boy and noticed he was looking at the wall. She turned and came face to... paint? Portraying a woman. It was a portrait.

Then it clicked. The woman in the portrait was Henrik's Mother and she was... not here anymore.

"Hej, Henrik." The woman said with a soft voice and a soft smile. "Vem är din vän?" She blinked. Swedish sounded... different. She was learning French and Latin but hearing Swedish felt alien. Then, she heard Henrik replying his Mother and she instantly got fascinated by how he spoke. He sounded so... foreign. Ok, he _was_ a foreigner, in her mind at least, but it was so pleasant to hear. To not know what he was saying. Swedish made him sound like someone with power, but his soft tone portrayed him like a respectful, caring and understanding boy.

"Miss Capella." The woman's voice took her out of her thoughts and she felt ashamed that she had started to zone out. "My son tells me you are in a bit of a problem." Capella blinked. The woman was speaking in English to her. Granted, she had an accent but she could understand. Capella nodded and glanced at Henrik who was looking at his Mother with reverent eyes. Capella felt a bit irritated to be forgotten but continued to pay attention to the woman. "I already explained Henrik how to unblock the Fireplace. Your impromptu arrival blocked it since you are not part of the family. Once it is unblocked, just say the place where you want to go and it will take you."

Capella pursed her lips. The woman made it sound as if she was an ignorant child that hasn't used the Floo. She just nodded since she didn't trust her mouth to say something without contempt. The woman just looked at her and nodded too, then she looked back at Henrik and told him something that made him blush and duck his head. Capella narrowed her eyes while watching the interaction.

She regretted feeling nice about not knowing what they were saying; now she was dying to know. Soon enough, the woman disappeared from the portrait leaving a sighing boy behind.

"Come on, Henrik, unblock that thing so I can go back home!" She demanded in all her Pureblood haughtiness while grabbing his hand and dragging him to the room where the Fireplace was.

She stood beside the Fireplace and looked back at him with an eyebrow rose as if telling him to hurry. Henrik blinked and sighed again. He looked for something sharp enough but seeing as there was not anything like that in the room, he summoned a letter opener from his Father's study, and ignoring Capella's gasp, he cut his palm to then place it to one side of the fireplace and chanted the words his Mother taught him.

The fireplace shone minutely showing that it was open again, to family members of course. He looked back to Capella and nodded not paying attention to her widened eyes and gaping mouth.

"Um.. open now..." He said not sure if he said it correctly. Capella composed herself when she heard him talk. She eyed the fireplace and a sense of relief washed her body. She wasn't looking forward the trip but at least she was going back. She stepped forward and gave him a quick hug whispering a 'thank you' in his neck. She quickly separated and grabbed some Floo Powder, and then she stepped in theFireplace.

She smiled to him before clearly saying 'Malfoy Manor' and throwing the powder making her disappear in the green flames.

Henrik sighed again and headed to the library where he was supposed to wait. Again, his curiosity and impatience led him to another adventure of some sort. He blindly walked to the Charmed books to get some light reading. He absent-mindedly picked one called _The Storm_ and just when he grabbed it, he felt a current of electricity running through his arm making him drop the book which opened and a violent wind came from it.

When Henrik knew that he was up to something bad, he quickly crouched to pick the book and put it back but a gale of wind threw him backwards.

Next thing he knew when he opened his eyes, he was flying around the library. Or more like, he was caught in some sort of mini hurricane. Books and parchment were flying everywhere. He looked around panicked and tried to swim to the door to get out, but the wind was too strong so he ended up flailing like a chicken. Some books hit him and parchment found their way directly to his face. After minutes in the same situation he just laid there gliding the currents, enjoying the feeling of flying without a broom.

He then noticed a huge tome flying towards him and he knew that it was going to hurt if he didn't move, but his arms and legs weren't enough for the deed and he braced himself for the impact, hoping against hope for something to happen. And something happened. He moved away from the tome's course. He looked around trying to find what happened but then he felt it. His magic was rolling up his body giving him more control to navigate the wind.

He gave an experimental jerk to the right and his body quickly turned right making him bump in a wall. He yelped in pain and surprise. He jerked to the left to separate from the wall and he almost crashed with a window before moving to the right again but this time smoothly.

After more experimentation with the directions and getting the hang of flying, he wanted to know if he could land. Leaning forwards as if he was riding a broom, he barely caught himself and avoided colliding head first with the floor but he managed to get to the ground. He noticed that once on the ground, he couldn't feel the wind around him even when his surroundings were in chaos.

He grinned and leaped, his magic giving him the impulse to propel himself up.

In the room where the Fireplace was located, the flames turned green welcoming a tall man, with golden blonde hair tied up by the middle of his back, a few strands falling loosely around his face. His blue eyes glanced around the room and smiled pleasantly not seeing his son in the room. Knowing Henrik, Bosse was almost sure that he would find the boy waiting for him in front of the Fireplace, but he was glad to be wrong from once.

The Fireplace flared up again and in walked a man two inches taller than Bosse Dahl with black short hair, perfectly combed to the right. His face was stern with yellow hooded eyes, a pointed nose, thin lips and high cheekbones. He waited for Bosse to lead him to wherever his son was. He had heard many things about this boy and he had to admit that he was somewhat impressed by the potential and talent the boy showed this early. Even children that had undergone their first year of education didn't show the level of magic and control this boy had.

If he was as promising, then there was no doubt that he would be recruited. Bosse said he needed the training. There was something else about the boy but that was going to be discussed as soon as the boy accepted.

They walked to the library where they felt a strong wave of magic behind the doors. He noticed Bosse sighing resigned. He raised one of his thick eyebrows at the display that made him even more curious about the boy. What he saw was far beyond of what he expected. The library was facing some sort of cyclone and in the middle was a boy flying around as if the strong winds didn't affect him. Was the boy laughing? He couldn't really tell as he was trying to protect himself from the wind and avoiding being hit by some stray book.

"Henrik!" Bosse yelled getting the attention of the boy who smiled even brighter and _flew_ towards him.

"Father! Father I can fly! I didn't know I could, I mean, it happened while I was being blown here and there because of the wind but then my magic came out and now I can fly!" The man had a bit of problem understanding the fast Swedish but he got the gist of what the boy said. In simple words, his magic made him fly. To say he was impressed was an understatement.

"Alright, I get it. Just come down!" The boy glided down and landed smoothly in front of them. His hair and clothes were ruffled and his cheeks were flushed from the excitement. "Now, tell me what happened here." Bosse said in a calm tone closing the doors of the library with a locking spell.

"I accidentally opened the book about storms from the Charm section." The boy said more composed and had the decency to look ashamed. By the face Bosse was sporting, it meant he wasn't supposed to go near there. The boy needed a bit of discipline but the uncommon situations brought his talent to the light.

"I guess we'll talk about this later. I'll send Prim to take care of the library." Bosse sighed.

Minutes later, they were sitting in Bosse's study, Henrik looking more composed and having been presented to the unknown man who was with his Father. Lorenzo Morosini was his name. Henrik didn't know why but being in the presence of this man made him want to do well and not disappoint him. He didn't usually felt like that as he would always get praised by his Father whenever he did an awesome feat with his magic; after being scolded, that is. But he felt that with this new man, he needed to do more than a few tricks.

"Tell me exactly how you could fly back there." Said Morosini; his Swedish had an Italian hint in it.

"Uhm..." Henrik glanced at his Father who gave him a curt nod to go ahead. "A book was flying towards me and I knew it would hurt so I just sort of wished it wouldn't hurt me, and I avoided it by changing direction. Then, I just started experimenting with the magic around me and gave it instructions. Something like that." He fidgeted throughout his explanation barely making eye contact with the man.

"Hm." Morosini acknowledge and nodded. He kept silent for some minutes that felt like hours to Henrik, thinking that maybe he said something bad or didn't do well. It was weird that he felt it was like a test. "Henrik, do you want to learn to do many amazing things with your magic?"

Henrik perked up with that. Amazing things with his magic? He already felt amazing with all the things he could do and most couldn't, according to his Father. Did that mean that there were things that were even more awesome? His childish curiosity picked and he found himself nodding energetically until he heard his Father clearing his throat. He blushed and dipped his head.

"Sorry," he mumbled to then put on his best serious face, though his brilliant, green eyes betrayed his enthusiasm. "I would like very much for you to teach me more magic, Mr. Morosini." He lightly bowed.

"Good. I will talk with your Father about your education." Henrik knew when he was being dismissed and just bowed again and left the room with a skip in his step. He unconsciously went back to the library just to find it in the same state but with various House-elves flying around and squeaking for help to their little Master.

  
  


...

  
  


After being smothered and scolded and smothered some more, Capella was sent to her room grumbling about the unfairness of being left without dessert and flying for a month. As if she was to be blamed about ending up in another country! Sure she used the Floo in a rush and while mad, but she didn't know that would happen. All in all, her parents were being too unfair about it and she felt she didn't need the punishment since she understood that what she did was bad, and she was scared, and she even cried!

She didn't say that last bit to her parents because that would give them the reason, that's why she just stood there to endure all the process. When she finally arrived to her room, she huffed and let herself fall gracelessly on her bed. She was tired but her mind was still replaying the events of the afternoon; especially when it came to that boy. A small smile adorned her mouth when she remembered the feeling of his magic. It felt so good. So warm.

"Something happened wherever you ended up in?" Capella opened one eye to look at the large mane of curly hair standing to the side of her bed. She extended her hand and Lyra didn't hesitate to take it to lie beside her sister. Through their link, she sent the same sensations the magic from that boy, Henrik, made her feel. Lyra clenched Capella's hand tighter and buried herself more into the sheets. "Where did you find it?" Lyra asked in a dreamy voice.

"In Sweden, it is this boy's magic, Henrik." Capella replied with her own sleepy voice.

"I like it." Lyra said getting a hum from her sister. "I want him." She said again after some minutes in basking in the feelings. Capella just smirked.

  
  


...

  
  


"Grandma, why are these people looking at me?" Asked a pudgy boy while hiding behind the skirts of his grandma to avoid being looked at by the people who were also in Gringotts waiting to be attended.

He really didn't like it when people looked at him. He was nothing special, so there was no need for them to pay attention to a boy without Father or Mother. Or at least that is what his Grandma said; that there was nothing extraordinary about him. That he was just a normal person, whatever that meant.

“Don’t pay attention to them,” the old lady replied glaring nastily to all those people gawking like animals at her grandson. She didn’t like it when she had to take Neville out but he showed signals of magic thus she needed to arrange his vault for it to be that of a wizard Heir and not a squib. It was always the same when they went out, people looking at Neville as if he was an attraction in the zoo.

Dowager Longbottom not only was displeased, she was even worried.

Her influence in the Magical Society was not like before, so she wasn’t able to bury all those rumors about The-Boy-Who-Lived that had already spread. She even suspected there was someone behind the curtains fanning the fire of those rumors; that someone being Albus Dumbledore. She secretly gnashed her teeth and cursed the meddlesome old man for ruining a child’s life with such outrageous claims.

Quickly finishing her errands in the bank, she hastily walked towards the Leaky Cauldron to Floo back home not caring if her grandson was tripping behind her as she pulled his arm. Neville didn’t need anything of this!

But said boy heard them. Neville heard the people around him talking about some amazing feat he had done when he was but a baby, that he was a powerful Wizard by vanquishing some bad man years ago. His infant mind, devoid of a normal education and warmth, started believing what others said. After all, if many people said it at the same time, then it was bound to be true, right? That contrary to what his Grandma claimed, he was not a normal kid. He was special.

He looked at his Grandma barking at some man who tried to get close to him. The man looked at Neville with worship and gratitude in his eyes. That made an indescribable feeling enter Neville’s heart, the boy looked back at the man even when his Grandma dragged him to the Fireplace. Only then he noticed that everybody around them had the same sparkling eyes as they looked at him.

Neville felt good. And a seed was planted in his heart.


End file.
